Rise of a Merchant Prince

Despite his impatience to see Sylvia again, Roo waited for another servant to open the door once the carriage came to a stop. He dismounted and said to the driver, “Return to the city and get supper. Then return here later. Wait here until I appear. I do not know how late I may be.”

 

 

The driver saluted and drove off, while Roo mounted the steps to the door. When the servant opened the door for him and he stepped inside, he was greeted by Sylvia, who smiled broadly at him. “Rupert!” she exclaimed as if she weren’t expecting him. The sound of his name on her lips sent a shiver through him, and sight of her in another of those scandalously low-cut gowns caused him to flush in excitement. She slipped her arm through his and kissed him on the cheek, pressing her bosom hard against him. “You look very handsome tonight,” she said softly in his ear. He swore she almost purred when she spoke.

 

She led him to the dining room and he saw only two places set. “Where’s your father?” he asked, suddenly alarmed and excited at the same time.

 

She smiled. “He’s out of the city on business. I thought you knew. I could have sworn I wrote something to that effect on the invitation. Didn’t I?”

 

Roo sat after she had taken her seat and said, “No, I thought the invitation was from Jacob.”

 

“It was from me. I hope you don’t mind.”

 

Roo felt his face flush. “No,” he said quietly, “I certainly don’t mind.”

 

He could hardly eat and found himself reaching for his wineglass repeatedly. By the time Sylvia announced supper was over, he was fairly down the road to being drunk. He rose and escorted her toward the entryway. He couldn’t remember one word in ten they had spoken. As they left the dining room, Sylvia turned to the servants and said, “That will be all. We will not be needing you further tonight.”

 

Instead of leading Roo toward the front door, she instead guided him up the stairs. He was afraid to speak, lest he wake her from some dream. Down a long corridor they walked and then she opened the door. She stepped across the threshold and gently pulled him through. Reaching around him, she pushed the door closed while he stood motionless, staring at the gigantic canopied bed that occupied the room.

 

Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Whatever shreds of rational thought Roo still possessed vanished at that moment.

 

In the darkness, Roo stared up at the canopy above. He could hear Sylvia breathing slowly and evenly and assumed she was asleep. He was exhausted, but also too keyed up to sleep. She was the most incredible women he had known. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but for the well-bred daughter of a rich merchant, she was an astonishing mix of playful childishness and wanton sensuality. She made love like a veteran of the Sign of the White Wing and was willing—no, eager—to perform acts that would have appalled Karli.

 

Thinking of his wife, he pushed aside a twinge of guilt. He knew now that he didn’t love her; he had married her from pity. He looked at where Sylvia lay, and sighed. This is the woman he should have upon his arm, he thought, not the dowdy little woman who was now at home, asleep in the belief he was discussing business with some shipping magnate. It was Sylvia whom he should be presenting to nobility, and it was Sylvia who should be bearing him children.

 

His heart pounded in his chest and his love for Sylvia became a bittersweet pang. He lay upon his side, staring at the barely seen outline of her in the darkness. In his boyhood dreams he had never imagined he would be the man he was at this moment, nor would he have dreamed that a woman of Sylvia Estherbrook’s stunning beauty and charm would be sharing her bed with him.

 

Rolling on his back, he stared at the dark cloth above him and wondered at the miracle of change he had experienced since the night he and Erik had fled from the hounds in Ravensburg.

 

Thinking of Erik made Roo wonder where his friend might be and what he was doing. He knew Erik was across the sea somewhere with Calis, de Loungville, and some men he didn’t know. And he had no idea what they were doing, but he suspected it was something dire. And he knew exactly why they were doing it.

 

Feeling no peace at such thoughts, he gently reached out and ran his hand down the amazingly soft skin of the woman at his side. She instantly stirred and moved in a languid fashion. Without words she rolled over and came to him, engulfing him in her arms. Amazed at how she knew instantly what he wished, he left all thoughts of Erik behind.

 

Erik pointed at the rocks. “To port! To port!”

 

The storm raged as the steersman fought to pull the tiller hard, turning the ship to port and away from crashing death. Erik had stood at the prow of the dragon ship for hours, looking through the dim murk of the early morning light, swirling snow, and fog, trying to avoid running the ship aground.

 

Raymond E Feist's books